Clothes Maketh the Woman
by Alley Cat Sunflower
Summary: Rose is promised rainbow sandstorms and ends up in a jail cell instead. To top it off, it's because she wasn't allowed to wear white on this particular festival day, and she had been wearing all white. Keywords: had been. So, she decides to have a bit of fun with her oblivious fiancée. Strongest T rating I've ever had, but still nothing major. I do not own Doctor Who!


Rose groaned as she floated back to consciousness, trying to find out where she was without opening her eyes and breaking the drowsy spell. From what little she could tell, she was lying on a very hard, very cold floor, and the air around her was unnaturally chilly for somewhere found on the ordinarily exceptionally warm planet Shkretetire.

"It means desert," the Doctor had said to her jovially as they stepped out of the TARDIAS (the time machine he had built with a few bits of stolen technology from Torchwood, and an equally dishonestly obtained fragment of coral from the original TARDIS). "Its sand is clear like raindrops, and it shimmers in all the colors of the rainbow whenever a sandstorm whips up. But the storms are rare, and extremely dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Rose had laughed. "Aren't all sandstorms dangerous?"

"The sand is very, _very_ sharp, and you'd be torn to shreds if you were unfortunate enough as to be caught in the middle of one. But we're safe from this distance—"

Foggily trying to remember what had knocked them out and how, Rose sat up to find that her clothes had all been removed somehow. Opening her eyes, she half-reluctantly dispelled the drowsiness that had kept her asleep for what felt like days. Rose checked her surroundings carefully, looking for a way out: she sat, wearing absolutely nothing, in a fairly cramped, all-white room with a row of open windows near the ceiling on one side. Through these windows, the sky was a deep shade of cerulean, with the stars just beginning to come out. If she hadn't been so annoyed that she was apparently in jail, she would have thought the sight beautiful.

Feeling vaguely ashamed of herself that it had taken as long as it had for her to remember to check around for her fiancée, Rose's eyes came to rest on the Doctor, who lay just before her. _He _was still mostly dressed, though they had apparently stolen his shoes and socks for some odd reason. Rose savagely thought of what she would do to the people who had taken off her clothing, and hugged her knees to herself a moment later, debating about whether or not she should wake the Doctor.

Eventually, just when she was about to wake him, the Doctor stirred, and Rose let out a half-exasperated, half-relieved sigh, making sure to keep as much of herself covered as possible. She needed him in an informative frame of mind, and more than once before Rose had found that her clothes (or lack thereof) often dictated whether or not whatever he was rambling about was actually intelligible.

"Good morning," smiled the Doctor, apparently noticing nothing odd about Rose's lack of clothes. "Or is that evening?" he added, glancing up at the windows. "I'm sorry," he continued, before Rose could react with annoyance. "I overshot the date just a little. Still breaking her in, you know. It's a festival day today, and on festivals… well, white is a holy color—"

"—so if you're wearing a holy color when you're not supposed to, they do what, take off all the white clothing you've got and confiscate it, and throw you in jail to boot?" Rose rolled her eyes.

"Exactly! The jail sentence is only for the festival's duration, though. We're released tomorrow morning. You caught on rather quickly," added the Doctor, sounding pleased. "How'd you guess?"

Rose shifted a little, uncomfortably, and waited for her oblivious fiancée to notice.

"…Ah," he said eventually, coloring slightly; he looked at her quickly, barely meeting her eyes, and looked away again before Rose could glare. If she hadn't generally been in a less-than-pleased mood, she'd have admired his chaste refusal to look at her without her express permission. However, at the moment, Rose was absolutely furious, and as the TARDIAS was nowhere to be found, her blame settled heavily upon the Doctor as the seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness.

Her anger was amplified, of course, by the fact that the Doctor—wearing no less than three separate layers—was having an unusual lapse in gentlemanly behavior and had not given her a single article of clothing with which to cover herself.

After a couple more unbearable minutes, during which it got no warmer in their tiny cell, Rose raised an eyebrow and took hold of the Doctor's tie none too gently, tugging his entire torso towards her; he let out a surprised yelp. "Now," she murmured, voice deadly soft, as she locked eyes with her fiancée, whose head was currently about level with her folded knees as she accidentally contorted him into a position similar to a bow. The sensation gave her a peculiar and invigorating sense of power over her future husband, and she practically felt like an empress as she proclaimed quietly, "I will need your shirt."

The Doctor's color deepened; Rose released his tie after a few tense, awkward moments and he removed his outer layers so quickly one would have thought they were on fire. Within seconds, he handed Rose his shirt, tie hanging loose around his bare neck and an expression on his face akin to a scolded dog. He was still not looking at her.

"That's better," said Rose, and turned away from him, hurriedly putting on his light blue shirt. It was understandably a little bit tight around the chest and short around the thighs, but fit well overall, and was extremely comfortable.

"Light blue," she added in a mutter. "Evidently not close enough to white, even though your beige tennis shoes were blasphemous."

"Of course it's not close enough to white!" exclaimed the Doctor, throwing on his outer jacket and leaning back on his hands lazily as though he was relaxing on a beach; his eyes were on Rose at last. "But that's beside the point. The point is…" He moistened his lips thoughtfully. "The point is…"

He trailed off, now refusing to look anywhere but her eyes; the intensity in their chocolate depths was startling and plainly unrelated to their conversation. She could practically hear the resolution ring through his head: _I will not look._

Rose thought with a smile that a huge part of why she loved him so much was the amount of absolute respect and devotion the Doctor gave her.

Her smile became a smirk as she added to herself that her love didn't mean she didn't get to tease him about it. If anything, it was even more of an invitation to. Besides, they were stuck in jail for God knew how long (she hoped it was just for the night), and it was about time she had some fun…

"The point?" Just to test the waters, Rose casually unfastened the top button; the Doctor blinked a few times, but didn't move his eyes from hers, though he shifted a bit uncomfortably. Smiling sweetly, she continued, "You know what I think?"

"Mm?"

"I think you'll never look at this shirt the same way again."

"Mm." The Doctor gave her the faintest of smiles, preferring at this point to close his eyes rather than look at her. For whatever reason, he seemed extremely determined to resist her. Rose took that to mean she was doing things right.

She undid another button after a little while and let the collar slide off her shoulder. "Cat got your tongue?" Sticking her own tongue out at him, she leaned on one hand, legs folded to the side, and tugged the shirt down a bit so it served as a minidress of sorts. _I could be a model for men's shirts! …If I wasn't in_ jail_, that is. _She mentally glared at her fiancée, though kept her seductive smile on her face.

The Doctor's eyes flicked open again, which Rose could tell he regretted instantly from the blush on his face (reserved for the times she was really doing a good job getting through to him), and shut them quickly again as though she was brighter than the sun. Grinning at her success, she scooted up beside him and kissed his cheek angelically.

"Do I look so terrible that you won't even open your eyes?" she asked teasingly.

"…Yes," he managed, opening one eye halfway and shutting it again. Rose couldn't tell if that was a reverse wink or proof of his statement as he continued slyly, "That shirt doesn't suit you at all, come to think of it. Really, it doesn't. Altogether the wrong shape, size, and color."

"And?" Rose readjusted the shirt, relishing the sound of the Doctor physically swallowing his impulses. Her job was to push the boundary, and damn if she wasn't good at it by now.

"If I'm any kind of fashion advisor, and believe me, I am, you should really take that off," finished the Doctor, smirking a little as he rose from the ground. "But I'm only making a suggestion," he continued, taking off his outer jacket (his back to her) as Rose hastily removed the offending article of clothing. "Really, that's all it is… just a sugge… stion…" He blinked as he turned around.

Raising her eyebrows, Rose half-wondered—judging from the wide-eyed shock on his face—if the Doctor would refuse to engage, but he grinned (almost self-consciously) and spread his coat out on the floor.

**((I was **_**going **_**to write Eleven/Clara, but I just **_**had **_**to get this mental image out of my head. May or may not have sucked a bit of inspiration from my favorite Who fanfiction ever as of right now… o/o**

**Happy Valentine's Day, by the way!**

**Anyway, yeah, I don't even know. Bit more flirtatious than I'm used to writing…))**


End file.
